


'Consensual': The Only Sexy Way To Do Things

by sottovoce81



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: A surprising lack of sex for a fic all about sex, Consent Issues, Consent is Sexy, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good Boyfriend Stiles Stilinski, M/M, Past Kate Argent/Derek Hale, Past Rape/Non-con, obligatory Kate Argent Warning, there is no actual sex in this fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 10:03:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11484075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sottovoce81/pseuds/sottovoce81
Summary: Stiles had to want more from this...thing…between them. Didn't he? Who wouldn't?So it seemed logical to buy some alcohol from the one store within fifty miles of Beacon Hills that sold to supernatural clients. He didn't even hesitate (much) to down the bottle before he stumbled his way through the woods to Stiles backyard.Derek knew he would be home because he’d promised to drop by that night. Stiles had said his dad was working a night shift and wouldn't be home until morning. “Perfect for a cuddle sesh’” Stiles had said. Like that was all he wanted.Right.





	'Consensual': The Only Sexy Way To Do Things

**Author's Note:**

> In this fic, Derek gets drunk because he feels like he needs to have sex with Stiles but doesn't feel comfortable with the idea yet. Stiles recognizes that everything is not okay immediately and nothing happens except for some cuddling. Then they talk things over.
> 
> There are no explicit mentionings of past Kate/Derek interactions, but Derek admits to being uncomfortable with people touching his inner thighs and stomach. The entire Kate Argent mentioning in this story is barely three sentences long, but I figure more warnings are better than none.
> 
> Also, so many apologies for any typos you guys find. I wrote this on my phone in Google Docs, and autocorrect is not always my friend. Also, for some reason all of my italics disappeared when I pasted into Ao3 but I'm too tired to try and fix each word right now. 
> 
> So here, take my trash. Lol

 

Later, after the wolfsbane poisoning wore off and he finished puking up black goo and bile, Derek wouldn't be able to admit why he did it. At the time it had seemed logical. It had been almost four months since he and Stiles had started...this thing together. Whatever it was. Dating? Really intense cuddling?

It was time to put up and put out or time to let Stiles move along.

They had been...whatever...to each other for months now but still hadn't had sex. Hell, they'd barely kissed a few times. The most they'd done was some lying on top of each other turned falling asleep on each other and waking with some mutual morning wood. (Which Stiles took care of in the bathroom, and Derek just willed into deflating.)

Derek hadn't had sex since Braeden. And before that, it had been Jennifer / Julia. But that was still a little hazy in his memory anyway so maybe it didn't count? Like if he could only sort of remember the trace of her fingers on his body did it fully count? Even though he only knew for a fact that they had had sex more than once from the way she smelled and from the hazy dreamlike memories that wouldn't seem to go away?

But Stiles didn't have his history. Stiles was the snarky surprise even when he was really the backbone of the ragtag Pack that Scott and Derek both tried to lead. And he had to want more from this...thing…between them.

Didn't he? Who wouldn't?

So it seemed logical to buy some alcohol from the one store within fifty miles of Beacon Hills that sold to supernatural clients. He didn't even hesitate (much) to down the bottle before he stumbled his way through the woods to Stiles backyard.

Derek knew he would be home because he’d promised to drop by that night. Stiles had said his dad was working a night shift and wouldn't be home until morning. “Perfect for a cuddle sesh’” Stiles had said. Like that was all he wanted.

Right.

But Derek knew. And he was man enough to admit (albeit only to himself) that he loved Stiles enough to be okay with it. Stiles was everything. And he deserved everything.

So here they were.

When Derek clambered through the open window, Stiles was sitting at his desk typing. “Lemme finish this paragraph then I'm all yours,” Stiles said absently, but his heartbeat had picked up since Derek had shown up, and he was smiling a little now.

Derek bit his lip and looked from Stiles to the bed and back. He crossed the room and sat down, a little heavier than he meant to. The alcohol was really starting to hit him. He felt like he could barely smell Stiles and that was weird. He was on his bed. He should be able to smell almost nothing but Stiles.

Alcohol was weird.

He bent over to pull off his boots and fell over, face smacking into the floor.

“Whoah! What are you--Derek?”

Then there was Stiles, grabbing at his shoulder and helping him sit up.

“What the hell? Should I call Deaton? Shit your eyes are glassy as fuck.” Stiles sounded worried. “Derek? Hey!”

Fingers snapped in front of his face and Derek bared his teeth.

When had he shifted? He could feel his fangs poking at his bottom lip.

Stiles had his face in both his hands and he was staring at him. Good. They should be kissing. So Derek grabbed a chunk of his shirt (ignoring the little yelp Stiles made because Stiles is always making noise.) Even as drunk as he was, he remembered to pull his fangs back in because you can't hurt Stiles.

Stiles is good and sunshine and soft smells. You can't let your fangs touch him.

Then Stiles pulled back, patting him on the cheek and the chest. “Hey slow down there, sugarlips. You haven't told me what's wrong. Derek?”

Derek leaned his head back against the mattress behind him with a huff. Why wasn't Stiles getting with the program? Sex time. It was now. Now was the time.

“Sex time?” Stiles repeated.

Shit. He must’ve said it out loud.

“Did you get hit by some weird sex pollen or something?” Stiles asked seriously. “You're sweating. And your heart is like seriously racing, dude. I should call Deaton.”

Derek growled and held on to his shirt so he couldn't escape. “Stop with…” he had to let go with one hand to wave at the computer “with the Internet things. There’s no such thing as ‘sex pollen.’”

Stiles stayed where he was, but his hands started petting Derek’s facial hair where the fur had sprouted. So Derek pulled the shift back and only then did he realize his claws had been out and he had shredded Stiles’s shirt.

“Oh shit,” he mumbled.

“What? Are you gonna throw up? I've got a trash can right over by the desk.”

“Your shirt!”

Stiles looked down. “Yeah. You uh...yep. You okay there, big guy?”

This wasn't going like he had planned at all.

“I'm failing,” Derek admitted quietly. His head thunked back down on the bed behind him.

Hands started running down his front. Maybe not so failing after all? Derek forced his breathing to stay regulated, even when Stiles’s hands touched his stomach and he wanted to flinch.

Then the hands pulled him forward to check his back.

So maybe not a prelude to sex? Because Stiles was talking to himself now, and it wasn't sexy at all. It sounded more like a checklist. Like he was checking that Derek still had all his parts.

They ran down his arms, long fingers circling him and testing the give of his skin. Then they jumped to his legs covered in his tight jeans. He’d worn his tightest pair because the last time the Pack had let loose and partied together Lydia had drunkenly told him he should always wear these jeans when he wanted to get laid.

But Stiles touched his legs from just above the knees all the way down to his ankles and skipped everything between his belly button and his thighs.

Who does that when they're having sex? It's unproductive.

But at least his clothing smelled like Stiles now. It was almost as good as his skin smelling like Stiles.

Stiles leaned back in, lifting his head up so they could see each other. (His head felt really heavy.) “Hey buddy, wanna tell me what’s going on? You look almost drunk.”

Derek snorted. “‘M way past ‘almost.’ I drank a whole bottle.”

“So you're drunk? Not poisoned or dying?”

Derek rolled his eyes so hard he got dizzy and had to let Stiles catch his head. “Duhhhhhhhh,” he mumbled out. “I was ‘fraid I’d stop too soon.”

“Stop what too soon?”

Derek just huffed out a weak approximation of a growl and started trying to pull Stiles’s shirt off.

“Whoah! Hey now. Where’s that going?”

“Get ‘t off.”

“Fine,” Stiles says with a sigh. “But you owe me for this.”

Of course he did. That was the whole point of this! He owed Stiles so much more than he was comfortable with. This would start to make that debt up. People liked sex with Derek. They liked his body. He could give that to Stiles.

He tried to take his own shirt off but it fought back. So with a growl he ripped it.

“Okay, that's a thing that happened,” Stiles said quietly. He smelled aroused now. That was good. It was a good smell on him.

Derek reached for his pants but Stiles grabbed his hands. “Hold up now!” he squawked. “Hold up there for just a gosh darn minute. What the hell is going on here?” He sounded startled. Confused?

Derek frowned at him. “‘M taking m’pants off.”

“I can see that, big guy. Why are you doing that?”

“They're too tight f’r sex.”

That was Stiles’s confused face.

Derek poked at his cheek. “Why’s that face? Why’s it here?”

“Why are you thinking we’re having sex right now?” Stiles shot back. But the face doesn't go away.

Derek growled and shook his head. “We’re dating. It’s wha’ dating people do.”

“Uh huh,” Stiles said but he sounds completely unconvinced. “Well I would like my someday-sexual life to be, you know, consenting, so uh, I guess we’ll have to table this discussion and let you sleep it off. Okay?”

“I'm co’senting, Stiles,” he said, flopping his hands because what did Stiles want from him? He was here wasn't he?

Stiles sighed like he was disappointed. Did he want Derek to play harder to get? Was he more interested in the chase?

“Oh shit, no no hey don’t cry,” Stiles murmured, hands coming back to pet his face.

Derek whined and leaned forward to bury his face in Stiles’s neck. And Stiles hugged him like everything was gonna be okay.

Which is of course when Derek choked on the bile that was suddenly coming back up.

Stiles scrambled for the trash can but he was a little too late. Some of it got on Derek’s chest and lap.

He sat there, bewildered, trash can held under his chin and slick vomit dripping down his abs, and wondered why this couldn't have just gone like he planned.

But then Stiles’s hand was on the back of his neck, petting and scratching the bottom of his skull and Derek wanted to die it felt so good.

“There you go,” Stiles murmured. “It’s okay. You're gonna be okay.”

Derek almost choked on the next mess he threw up into the can. How did Stiles always make him feel better? It was like some strange magic power his...dating person...had. Were they boyfriends?

“Do you want us to be boyfriends,” Stiles asked quietly, fingers still playing in his hair.

Derek nodded weakly. He wanted to be able to put a name to this thing between them. He wanted a way to call Stiles his for however long Stiles would let him.

“Then we’re boyfriends,” Stiles said, like it was that simple. “If you're okay with it, I would really like that. Now I'm gonna ask you, my first request as your official boyfriend, will you please hold on to this trash can carefully so I can get something to clean you up?”

It took Derek a moment to really think past the fact that Stiles wanted him, to nod and accept the plastic can. He hugged it to his chest and tried not to break it when the next bit of vomit came up.

Stiles probably wasn't gone long but it felt a little like forever. Derek was starting to feel absolutely horrible. His head hurt. His skin was clammy. He was probably not done throwing up. And Stiles wasn't touching him.

He threw up three more times before Stiles came back. He was eyeing the window, wondering if he should just go home when Stiles came back in carrying a bowl, water bottle, a pair of sleep pants, and wash cloth and towel. He set his supplies on the floor next to Derek, tossing the pants on the bed to keep them out of the way.

“Are you done throwing up yet?” Stiles asked, sounding a more worried than upset.

Derek shrugged.

Stiles sighed and carefully pried his fingers from the trash can. He dipped the washcloth in the bowl of water and quickly rinsed off the side of the trash can that had been sitting against Derek’s vomit-covered chest before setting it to the side but well in reach of Derek’s limp hands.

“God you're such a mess,” Stiles mumbled, already moving to wash his chest with the washcloth.

It's cold and Derek can't stop himself from flinching when the cloth touches his belly.

“I’m sorry, I’ll be done as soon as I can be,” Stiles promised quietly, free hand coming up to cup the back of his head again. “Just give me a second and you'll be all clean and ready to sleep this off.”

The talking helped. It helped him focus on who was in the room with him and who was really touching him there. It’s been a weird no-fly zone ever since…

Derek grabbed the trash can in time to vomit one more time because he didn't want to think of her when he was sitting in a room with Stiles half naked. He didn't want her here.

Stiles pet his arm while he choked into the trash can pitifully. This was so embarrassing. He shouldn't have come. He shouldn't have done this. And he didn't know how to take it back. He couldn't jump out the window because Stiles would just chase after him now. Or he wouldn't let Derek leave. He was stubborn. Like...a stubborn thing.

“Okay,” Stiles said, when there was no more vomiting. “Can you stand up?”

Derek rolled his eyes. But it was harder than expected. It required a combination of acrobatic skills that seemed just out of reach honestly.

Stiles ended up holding a lot of his weight up. Stiles was breathing hard when they were finally both up and mostly stable. “We’ve gotta get these jeans off you or you're not allowed in my bed.”

Made sense. Sex is hard with pants on.

“They smell like wolfsbane and vomit.”

Or because of that. Okay.

“Can you get them off if I hold you up?” Stiles asked.

Derek nodded. Why wouldn't he be able to take off his own pants? When Stiles shifted his hold so he was standing behind Derek, arms wrapped around his chest, Derek went to work on the pants. It took longer than it should. But he got them open and pushed them down until they hung just below his butt.

“Of course you're not wearing underwear!” Stiles sounded a little hysterical. But his scent didn't smell much like arousal now. He smelled annoyed.

Derek was too tired to work out why.

“Okay, come on,” Stiles said, working around Derek and helping him sit down on the bed. Derek’s butt was on Stiles’s bed.

Take that, Scott!

“What?”

Now Stiles’s bed was gonna smell like Derek’s butt! That little crooked jaw could eat it.

“What the hell are you on about now?” Stiles asked, but he wasn't distracted enough to stop trying to work Derek’s jeans off.

That was okay. He could have Derek. He would be careful and gentle or whatever.

When the jeans finally came off, Stiles fell on his butt. It was kind of hilarious. He laid there blinking up at the ceiling with the jeans clutched in his hands looking stunned.

Derek snorted.

“Shut up.” But there wasn't any heat behind his voice. Stiles tossed the jeans onto the towel on the floor then rolled and got up from the floor. He held the pants from the bed out for Derek. “Come up. Time to get ready for bed.”

Derek frowned. “Those smell like your dad.”

“Uh huh. Mine won't fit you. I'd love to pretend, but let’s be real it would take both of my chicken legs to fill one side of your pants.”

“I'm not having sex with you when I'm wearing your dad’s pants.” Derek wasn't sure how this situation had gone so wrong.

“Well any possibility of a boner just died and disappeared, so at least there’s that,” Stiles said tiredly. “Put the pants on, Derek. You can't sleep naked in my bed.”

Derek couldn't figure out why they were talking about sleeping. It wasn't that late. But Stiles started shaking the pants in front of his face until he took them.

It turned out to be not in his drunken skill range though.

“Oh for god’s sake,” Stiles growled and took them from him. But he was gentle when he tucked Derek’s feet one at a time into the leg holes and pulled the pants up so that they could bunch around his ankles. Then he started working them up Derek’s legs.

It was a bit of the opposite of his original intentions. But he wouldn't have said he was disappointed. The pants were soft. Even if they did smell like Sheriff Stilinski.

“Boost up,” Stiles ordered when he was past Derek’s knees.

Derek sighed and flopped back on the bed like a drunk fish to boost his butt off the bed.

He heard Stiles make a choking sound but the pants barely paused their ascent up his legs and then he had pants on.

Success?

Stiles bullied him into shifting on the bed so his head was on a pillow and his feet were off the floor. Then Stiles flitted around the room cleaning up the mess and taking all of the bad smelling things out of the room so Derek could breathe. He turned his face into the pillow so he could breathe Stiles’s scent.

The owner of said scent returned not too long later and got him to sort of half sit up long enough to slip behind him so that Derek was propped up against Stiles’s chest. Then he opened a water bottle and held it against Derek’s mouth so he could drink.

It tasted so clean after all the alcohol and wolfsbane and vomit. It was cold and it made Derek want to take a bubble bath in ice. He felt hot. But not in a good way.

Then Stiles started petting his hair again and he closed his eyes, just...reveling in being fed water and the head-petting. He didn't even realize when he started falling asleep.

 

{............................}

 

Derek woke slowly to the sensation of a hand petting his hair and the smell of Stiles all around him. He was lying on his front on what smelled like Stiles’s bed.

When he opened his eyes to check, the laser beams of the sun’s rays made him whine. And then moving his vocal chords made him feel nauseated.

“Oh good, you're awake finally.” Stiles didn't bother to even talk more quietly than normal. And he sounded...chipper. Maybe even gleeful.

Derek pressed his face into the mattress. Maybe he could just suffocate and avoid this conversation for forever.

“Do you need to throw up?”

Derek considered it. Then shook his head very, very slowly. Everything hurt. Everything! His toes hurt! Why?!

The head petting stopped and Derek fought hard not to whine at the loss.

Stiles sighed behind him. “It’s approximately six in the morning. My dad got back an hour ago but he didn't bother to check up on me, thank god. I'm not sure exactly how I would have explained this. I could argue that it’s fine because I'm almost nineteen but you know my pop. He would have wanted to sit us down for a talk, and I'm still trying to figure out how to tell him we’re dating.”

Derek moved his face enough to grunt out, “He already knows.”

The bed moved when Stiles jumped. “What? What do you mean ‘he already knows’? How does he know?”

Derek wanted to roll his eyes but it sounded like a very bad idea when he is currently fighting off the urge to vomit his entire stomach and probably every other organ in his body. “He knows because I asked his permission to take you out.”

They had gone on their first “actual” date over three months ago. Before then it had just been cuddling on Derek’s couch and five kisses. Stiles had been eighteen for almost half a year, because he was held back in elementary school before they got his ADHD under control, so Derek had hoped that would help his case when I went to the Sheriff’s office to beg permission to take Stiles out.

To date, it was still the most terrifying conversation Derek had ever been involved in, most likely including whatever Stiles was about to throw his way for the disaster that had been the previous evening.

“You asked permission to date me?” Stiles gasped. He sounded winded.

Derek rolled so that he could open one eye and peek up at his face. Stiles looked...completely gobsmacked. Derek huffed a short sigh and sank back into the mattress.

“He’s your dad. I wanted to do it right.”

“Oh my god.”

“He was kinda surprised but also I think not really. Told me if I ever hurt you he’d come after me with the whole force of the department behind him.”

“He let you date me,” Stiles said slowly.

“Yeah,” Derek agreed. “I was that surprised too.”

Stiles’s scent did something complicated and he leaned over to plant a little kiss to Derek’s cheek.

Derek hummed into it.

“You're so perfect when you're not being stupid.”

And there they went. Time to feel like crap.

Derek slid his head under the pillow he had been sleeping on and covered his face.

Stiles sighed. “Keep the pillow if it helps, but we are going to talk. And no I'm not doing all of the talking. I'm gonna need some words out of you too.” But he took Derek’s hand in one of his, and the other one came up to rest on Derek’s back, tracing his tattoo. So, they probably weren't breaking up. Which was good. Because they'd only been official boyfriends since about ten o’clock last night.

“Let’s start off small. I'll ask some yes or no questions and then tell you what I think I need to say about last night. Then you can explain, I can make us breakfast, and we can cuddle in bed and watch Netflix until we get so bored we have to leave this room.” Stiles’s fingers stilled for a moment before picking back up. “Or I guess, you can leave as soon as we talk if you don't want to be here after this. I get that. But please don't leave before we talk? This is a talking time. We’ve gotta communicate or risk some serious miscommunications here.”

Derek really wanted to leave, but he knew Stiles was usually right about things like this. And also, he still felt very close to throwing up. He didn't really wanna limp back home through the woods while spewing his guts.

“Okay, first question: did you intentionally get drunk last night?”

“Yeah,” Derek admitted, but he couldn't admit to more.

“Did you intentionally…” Stiles trailed off for a moment. “Did you intend to be drunk when you got here last night?”

Derek frowned, but mumbled out another, “Yes.”

“So you were not forced against your will to be drunk and then came to me because your already drunk brain wanted to see me?”

“No.”

Stiles went back to the tracing his tattoo think and Derek felt his shoulders relax.

“Do you mind me touching you right now?”

“Of course not,” Derek said, lifting the pillow a little so that it would be clear.

“Good,” Stiles said. “And did I in any way, shape, or form touch you in a way that made you uncomfortable last night?”

“No.”

“Even when I cleaned the vomit off your stomach and you started shaking so bad I thought you were going to crawl under my bed?”

Derek lay there for a moment, trying to figure out how to respond. He’d forgotten about that.

“Do you remember that?” Stiles asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Derek sighed. “I just...I forgot about that a little. I don't like…” But he can't say it. It's a weakness.

“Don't like people touching your stomach?” Stiles finished for him.

Derek nodded. “Yeah…”

“Are there any other places I should be careful of touching?”

It was asked like an offer. Like Stiles would gladly make a list of places not to touch him. Derek peeked out from under the pillow, frowning, but Stiles just looked at him calmly and waited.

Derek sighed and let the pillow fall back over his face. “It’s...the worst, but...sometimes I get weird about hands on the insides of my thighs too.” It's terrifying admitting this to someone. He’s never said it out loud before. But he trusts Stiles and he wants Stiles to know that.

Stiles rubbed a hand across his upper back. It felt like a ‘thank you.’

“Okay,” he said quietly. “I can handle that. And I'm almost done with the questions but I've gotta know one more thing, I’m sorry. Before you decided to down a whole bottle of wolfsbane infused liquor, were you planning to have sex with me?”

Derek didn't want to answer that. It sounded a little like a trap.

“Derek?”

But he also didn't want to lie to Stiles. Stiles deserved better. He deserved the truth and he deserves to know what a complete mess Derek was.

“Yeah, I…yeah,” Derek admitted lamely. “I'm sorry.”

“Okay. First off, I'm not mad. And I forgive you. But why are you sorry?”

Derek wasn't sure how to put it in words. He shrugged.

“Do you wanna cuddle?” Stiles asked out of nowhere. “I won't even make you look at me, but do you wanna like spoon? Because I would like to spoon the heck out of you if you're interested in being the little spoon right now. Or the big spoon if that's what you want.”

Derek didn't bother answering verbally, but rolled so his back was to Stiles and tucked his knees up. He tugged Stiles’s hand so he would follow. And Stiles got with the program and wrapped around his back, bottom arm slipping under Derek’s head so the tips of his fingers could drag against Derek’s hair. His arm on top wrapped around Derek’s side but very carefully did not touch his stomach as Stiles brought his hand to rest against Derek’s sternum.

“Is this okay?”

“I'm not gonna break,” Derek said with some heat to it, though he wasn't altogether sure he wasn't lying.

“I know,” Stiles replied calmly. “I just...I want you to feel safe right now. I'm not even gonna yell at you or whatever you think I'm about to do--I'm just guessing by the way your muscles are all tensed up. We’re gonna fix this and it’s gonna be fine. No worries.”

No worries. Right. He had gotten drunk off his ass in order to have sex with his boyfriend but it had backfired spectacularly and now Stiles was acting like he was made of glass.

Before Derek even realized it, he was asking a question of his own. He blamed the hangover from hell. “Do you want to have sex?”

“Like right now or like hypothetically at some point? Because you look a little like you're on death’s door right now.”

Derek sighed. “Like ‘at all,’” he qualified. “Do you want to have sex with me in general?”

Stiles started in with the fingertips petting his hair. “I think it would be nice someday, if you wanted that,” he said eventually. “I'm an eighteen-year old guy with a healthy libido. Sex sounds fun. But I'm not rushing headlong in search for orgasms here. I really don't mind waiting.”

“We’ve been dating for months,” Derek said, because that's a long time to wait.

“Uh huh.” Stiles doesn't even sound concerned.

“Don't you...want…?”

“To bang you like a screen door?” Stiles asked. “To jump you every time I see you? Yeah, a little bit. But like, I don't need to. I know about your history with Kate, though we haven't talked about it a whole lot.”

Derek flinched, but Stiles just pet his sternum calmly, carefully keeping his touch high on Derek’s torso.

“I'm not gonna make you talk, about that right now, don't worry. I'm just saying I know you've had some horrible experiences when it comes to sex and I've had no experiences with sex involving a second person other than myself. I'm fine waiting. Just dating you is enough for me. I'm happy with you even if you're not ready for sex. Hell, I'm not sure I’m ready for sex! I mean, sure I could fantasize about sex with you every minute of the day and not get bored--”

Derek blushed even though he tried to stop it.

“--but it doesn't mean I feel completely ready to actually be naked with another human being just yet, especially one who has me so beat on the whole physical blessings of muscles and abs and everything.”

“You're attractive, Stiles,” he argued, because they've had this conversation a few times already.

Stiles shrugged against him. “Agree to disagree. But my point still stands. Sex seems a little bit terrifying still. Well maybe not terrifying but...something. It's a lot to handle being that close with someone. Besides, you and I have kissed and made out a few times but like, are you ready to jump all the way over second and third base to just...bang completely? Do the full horizontal tango?”

Derek didn't know what to say. ‘No, he wasn't ready for that’?

“Because I for one, don't think I am. I think there’s a natural progression that a lot of people tend to follow and I think last night you tried to jump the gun a little bit because you got worried that I was unhappy. But I'm not. I'm so happy. Ecstatic, really. We are the best at cuddling. We’ve even found a way to cuddle comfortably on that stupid grandma-style chair you have in your living room when the Pack comes over. And I'm happy with that for now. Probably for a long while, actually. Because I want us both to be completely ready when our pants come off in a sexy way.”

His heartbeat was steady. His scent was calm. His tone was level.

Derek needed to move. He pushed his arm up and Stiles pulled back like it was instinct, but Derek just twisted and went after him, plastering his front against Stiles’s chest and tucking his head under his boyfriend's chin.

Stiles didn't wait long to wrap his arms around Derek’s back once he realized what Derek was going for. But he also doesn't shut up and let the moment sink in. “So is that an agreement? Because we’re partners in this. I don't want to make you uncomfortable ever. I would always rather have you tell me ‘no’ than make you feel pressured or hurt you in any way by making you uncomfortable.”

Derek nodded against Stiles’s neck. “Cuddling for now is...good.”

“Good.” Stiles kissed the top of his head. “And will you please not make any more decisions without me about speeding over stages of our relationship without us talking about it?”

“Yes,” Derek sighed. Because admittedly, last night was kind of stupid now that he was looking back on it. He should have known Stiles wouldn't like him doing that.

“Good, because I wasn't kidding about thinking ‘consenting’ is the only sexy way to do things. And unless discussed well in advance, I don't want to ever have sex with you when you're drunk, drugged, or otherwise out of your normal mind frame.”

“Okay.” Because that's easy to agree with.

“And if I ever do something that you are not one hundred and ten percent down for, you have got to let me know, Derek. I don't know if I did something to make you think I needed sex right now, but--”

Derek shook his head to cut him off. “It wasn't anything you did,” he said quietly. “It just...seemed like we’ve been together for a while, and I thought…”

Stiles rubbed a hand up and down his back comfortingly. “Well how about we celebrate our ‘being together’ and our being official boyfriends now by taking a nap. Then maybe follow up with breakfast and Netflix like I said earlier.”

“That sounds really good,” Derek said, because how could he get so lucky to have Stiles in his life. Like this. Understanding and gentle in a way no one had ever been towards Derek before.

He had the best boyfriend in the world. And maybe someday not too far from now they could revisit the possibility of sex. Maybe they didn't need to worry about it just yet.

 

**Author's Note:**

> I saw a post around Tumblr about all these different phrases for checking with your partner for consent about different things and one jumped out at me and made me think of sterek. I used it near the end of the fic when Stiles said he would rather hear a 'no' than do something to make Derek uncomfortable.


End file.
